The Prodigal Feline
by QueenOfTheGingers
Summary: Toby goes missing. A short Sherlolly one-shot.


**The Prodigal Feline**

**A/N: This story is based on a prompt. I wrote it intending for it to be only a one shot, but I'm thinking about possibly expanding it. Let me know what you guys think.**

**All errors are my own.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

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"Molly, I need the samples from the fridge." A pause. "Please."

"Right. Well, you can get them yourself. You're closer to the fridge anyway."

"Can't. Busy." He's been sitting at her microscope for hours already, looking at an innumerable amount of slides. John left ages ago to be with Mary, and here she is stuck with "boffin" Sherlock Holmes, the great prat. So far today he's been too busy to get himself coffee, answer the phone in his own jacket pocket, and now to get the samples from a fridge literally three feet away from him.

"Fine." She rushes past him to the fridge. "Obviously nothing else matters but what _you _deem important at any given moment. Never mind what's going on with anyone else. You couldn't be bothered to give a flying fuck about anyone else." He watches her violently rifle through the fridge's contents. "You expect me to make you coffee. Out of all the empty spots here, you use _my _fucking microscope without asking." He hears the sound of tinkling glass, and he's sure she's broken something, but he wouldn't dare say it out loud. "You can't even answer your damn phone!" She slams the test tube rack onto the counter next to him and they rattle threateningly.

"You've been crying." Her eyes are red and her mascara has run a bit. There are tissues tucked away in the pocket of her lab coat.

"No shit, Sherlock." She swiftly walks into her office and slams the door.

It takes her a bit to calm down, but when she does she's upset with herself for cursing. She switches on her computer, resigning herself to getting work done on her computer, and sees her screensaver – Toby in that ridiculous cat sweater Meena got him for Christmas last year. She starts crying all over again. She doesn't hear Sherlock leave the morgue.

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The next time she sees him again he's at her door, kitty in tow. She's so relieved to see Sherlock with Toby that she launches herself straight into his arms, crushing the prodigal cat between them. It's really not surprising that Toby decides to sink his claws into Sherlock's chest as punishment. Molly pulls the offending cat off of him, and winces.

"I'm going to have to clean those up for you." She helps him out of his coat and folds it neatly on the back of her chintz arm chair. "Go on in to the toilet and I'll gather up some supplies. You don't want to risk any infection, this soon after recovering from a bullet wound. Besides, who knows what Toby has been up while he was gone." She shoots an affectionate look at the cat lounging on her couch.

"He was mucking about Russell Square." He's sitting on the lid of the toilet with his shirt unbuttoned. "One of my network found him basking in the sun, being adored by a group of small children."

She laughs at the mental image. "He always did have a soft spot for kids. Too bad he's stuck here with old me." She dabs a bit more rubbing alcohol onto the gauze pad and wipes at his chest with it. He hisses, and she raises an eyebrow.

"Really? I know that you've had worse than this. I've patched you up from much worse." She touches the shiny red scar on his abdomen. His fingers catch hers.

"I am aware, Molly, of all that you do for me. I don't give you enough in return." His fingers are warm on hers, and she can feel herself flushing pink.

"Well, I usually don't mind." She tosses the gauze into the bin by the sink and stands. "I'm sorry I was so short with you the last time we spoke. Toby was missing, and sometimes you just know the very worst ways to behave. Sorry."

"Molly." His hands are on her hips, keeping her close. She can feel one of his fingers against the bare skin where her shirt and jeans normally meet. "I know that I can be demanding."

"Demanding is one way to put it. I'm well aware that you take advantage of me, Sherlock. I just can't bring myself to care anymore. I would do just about anything for you, you know." She slides her fingers into his dark curls and scratches his scalp the way she knows he secretly likes. "You keep coming 'round, and I keep letting you order me about. It's indecent really, but I can't help it." She smiles down at him. "I especially can't help it when you go and do something as wonderful as you just did. How many cat pictures have you had to go through?"

"About a thousand, give or take a few." He sighs, and pulls her closer to him, resting his face into her belly. "Why didn't you just ask me for help? You knew I'd been itching for a case."

"You were busy with your research, remember? Besides, I thought you said Toby was a 'furry waste of atomic matter' and that I'd be better off to keep company with the skull on the mantel." She can feel his breath through her shirt.

"Well. He's important to you."She feels him talking into her belly button. "And I only said that because he left a hairball on my favorite dressing gown." His grip on her tightens. "You love him, and he's decent enough company, so he stays."

She tilts his face up by his chin and kisses him.

"Thank you for bringing Toby home."

"You're welcome."

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